chronicles

I want to mention
summer ending
without meaning the death
of somebody loved

or even the death
of the trees. 
Today in the market
I heard a mother say

Look at the pumpkins, 
it’s finally autumn! 
And the child didn’t think
of the death of her mother

which is due before her own
but tasted the sound
of the words on her clumsy tongue: 
pumpkin; autumn. 

Let the eye enlarge
with all it beholds. 
I want to celebrate
color, how one red leaf

flickers like a match
held to a dry branch, 
and the whole world goes up
in orange and gold.

- Linda Pastan

Kasia’s English-major-ain’t-for-naught poem analysis: This is obviously a passive aggressive “screw you” intended for Keats. (grad school, what’s good?)

Hello, September. Please, hoodie weather, if you wouldn’t dawdle along.

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